


The one where there's a camera

by BeBunny



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-23
Updated: 2010-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:59:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeBunny/pseuds/BeBunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard realized, with a jolt that he was staring and his breath caught tight in his chest. Creasing his brow he stopped moving and tried, fairly unsuccessfully to assuage the familiar and guilty wave of attraction that crashed over him. He relaxed, fighting to control his breathing, and looked up to find Ray staring at him, his expression curious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one where there's a camera

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyfoxxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyfoxxx/gifts).



> Title: The one where there's a camera  
> Author: Bebunny  
> Description: Gerard tried so hard to hide his deep attraction to Ray, but sometimes things shouldnt always stay hidden, sometimes it takes a camera to expose them  
> Notes: Mutual affection, a lot of naughtiness. Ray/Gerard, NC17 2500ish words  
> I dont know anyone here, its all pure fantasy.

The first recording sessions started off manic and raucous and beautiful, something reminiscent of their early vigor, but they had all brought something of themselves to it this time. Now this album was taking on a life of its own. Gerard didn't know when they had started referring to it as 'she' but they were almost positive the damn thing was sentient by now. There had been jokes about her needing space, and time to think, and Bob had made some smutty, offhand remark about treating a woman right and there it was. The album was now a stunning, savage woman they were courting, each of them bringing gifts and striving not to scare her away.

 

They had backed off, letting the album call them returning dutifully and lovingly to the studio whenever she beckoned, to thrash out their devotion to her, screaming lyrics and sacrificing guitar strings in her name.

 

Gerard was alive with the effort of it all, the pure creative energy leaking from his pores, only to be soaked up in Ray's sponge and wrung out again through the playbacks. All of them sneaking glances at each other over mixing desks and drum kits, coffee machines and shared smokes, they knew it, the fucking press knew it. Their best work yet. Fuck the Black Parade, The Black Parade was dead!

 

The latest cup of coffee stood untouched and tepid on the filing cabinet, inside a loose coil of cable, there was cable everywhere, connecting amps, pedals, mixing decks, tape decks, reverb boxes and someone's iPod, everywhere was evidence of their near-constant tinkering, insistence on the right sound, how to coax the perfect track from hiding.

 

Frank had been bored for hours, waiting for Ray to tweak and fiddle with the riff he was working into their current track so he could work his melodies around it, and had decided to chase Bob with the SLR, snap happy at the whole studio until Bob had chased him back, mic stand gripped in one hand, and a grim expression. When Bob had caught him a clout around the back of his head with a palm Frank had called it a night, perching the camera on the desk and making a break for it, dodging Bob and dragging Mikey out behind him, apparently for protection and possibly moral support. Bob had lasted only a couple of minutes until he'd shrugged his hoodie back on and followed them out, ravenous, and intent on making Frank pay for dinner as punishment.

 

~*~

 

Gerard paced the little studio room, nodding his head and deep in concentration as Ray played the hook again, his hair bobbing in time to the imagined beat of Bob's entering drum solo. His fingers blurred on the strings and his mouth was set in concentration.

 

Gerard realized, with a jolt that he was staring and his breath caught tight in his chest. Creasing his brow he stopped moving and tried, fairly unsuccessfully to assuage the familiar and guilty wave of attraction that crashed over him. He relaxed, fighting to control his breathing, and looked up to find Ray staring at him, his expression curious.

 

"'Sup Gee?"

 

Gerard started a little.

 

"I don't know man," He swallowed "You fucking rock, you know that right?"

 

Ray laughed a high, musical noise that set Gerard's hair on end.

 

"It's just this riff dude, you know?"

 

Gerard nodded; he licked his bottom lip and smiled weakly at Ray. He brushed a strand of hair from his face and shook his head back "can I try?"

 

Ray nodded mutely and handed over the guitar, Gerard placed his fingers lightly over Ray's longer digits briefly, a ghost of a touch, before taking the guitar with his other hand. He had always allowed himself such tiny pleasures, careful never to let it show, always conscious of the reactions they might elicit.

 

Ray's concentration was on the notes spread out in front of him however; Gerard was left to pick out disconnected notes from the strings, working to meld the ideas and concepts in his mind to the real world through the guitar. He hummed softly under his breath as he plucked, imagining how it would sound on stage, or in the studio mix, played out over thousands of car stereos.

 

He glanced up at Ray shuffling about, moving paper, making notes and tapping the pencil on the desk in time to his humming. As Gerard picked up the pace a little, a suggestion Mikey had made about the opening chorus, Ray played with the digital camera Frank had left, one of Greg' spares, and the instrument of Bob's torture. He snapped a single picture of Gerard perched on the practice stool and grinned, before flicking back over the photos Frank had left on the card. Giggling at Bob's obvious discomfort as Frank chased him around the studio. But it wasn't until Gerard noticed a lack of noise from Ray's direction that he looked up to see what he was doing.

 

Ray was looking at the camera with the same expression as when he devised a particularly complex bridge, like he was trying to see three steps ahead of where he was. Gerard always thought of it as Ray's crystal ball expression. He raised an eyebrow and stopped strumming.

 

Ray shook his head, flustered.

 

"Hah, we all look different these days don't we" He said, although Gerard thought he detected a slight croak in his voice, he nodded anyway.

 

"Yeah, all growed up" He drawled, mimicking a deep southern accent.

 

Ray didn't laugh. He hummed the hook Gerard was working on and moved behind the singer. Placing the camera back where he'd found it.

 

"I think you could do more with this" He noted "I mean we could"

 

He placed his hands over Gerard's on the neck of his guitar, matching the spaces on his fingers, and slid his other down Gerard's arm to meet his thumb on the strings. Gerard fought wildly to keep his breathing even and was grateful for the weight of the guitar in his lap. He nodded mutely, an indication for Ray to continue.

 

Ray moved his hands gently, manipulating Gerard's place on the strings, changing chords and the feel of the melody. He was inches from Gerard's ear, sending shivers down Gerard's neck and making him lean his head almost imperceptibly towards Ray.

 

He could only answer Ray's encouragement with murmurs; afraid his voice would crack or fail and betray his tension. Eventually Ray removed his hands and placed them on Gerard's shoulders, indicating Gerard should try it again alone. As he fought to keep the changes in mind he picked at the strings, humming the song and trying not to focus on Ray's hands, his bulk behind him, pressing against his back.

 

"Very good" Ray nodded, and Gerard felt the pressure increase on his shoulders slightly, he felt coiled tight like a spring, or like a balloon too full of air, ready to burst.

 

The raucous clash of unbridled noise from his dropped guitar was almost the first indication his brain registered when he felt Ray's lips on his neck, under his ear, like a burning coal on ice. His hands, then devoid of distraction pawed helplessly at the air and his eyes closed as a moan escaped his mouth. He felt Ray's hands clasp his own, and his arms pulled back tight against them, Ray's tongue working its way around Gerard's earlobe, and his breath hot and hard in his ear.

 

"How long?" Ray growled, tightening his grip.

 

Gerard squirmed a little, not sure why this question was leading, and unsure if he wanted to bear his guiltiest secret aloud, even if things did seem to be heading in a very positive, albeit surreal direction. His hesitation garnered a lazy bite from Ray to the tense flesh at the back of his neck.

 

"How long?" Ray repeated.

 

Gerard relaxed, committed. "A few years" He rolled his eyes up and hoped fervently this wasn't some elaborate and cruel prank engineered by his brother, or Frank.

 

"Shit Gee," Ray rumbled. "As if I'd have turned you down"

 

Ray slid his weight around the stool until he was face to face with Gerard, whose evening was now top of the list for 'check no one spiked my coffee' weird. Gerard found himself hauled up to his feet and his chin cupped in Ray's calloused hands, his mouth pressed firmly against Ray's, his brain shorting out, and his arms wrapped carefully around the shoulders of one of his best friends.

 

When Ray's tongue met his, Gerard lost nearly all control, and it was only with Ray's gentle insistent fingers that he managed to unbuckle his belt enough to shuck his jeans off, making small whining noises, and desperate for touch.

 

"Calm down Gee" Ray breathed, unbuckling his own belt. "No one is coming back, we're not rushed here"

 

Gerard picked up his jacket from the floor and hung it on the back of a nearby chair, an unconscious gesture of insecurity. His underwear was stretched obscenely across his front, displaying his arousal, and making him itch for warm human touch, instead of the passive pressure of the fabric. He forced himself to take a deep breath in.

 

"Right," He said, as much to himself as to the now, very-nearly-naked Ray. "Yeah, I can wait three, maybe four years, five more minutes isn't hard"

 

Ray nodded, murmuring approval. He gathered Gerard up in his long arms for another kiss, hands sliding down his back, cupping his backside and running his tongue over Gerard's lips. Kneeling, he peeled down Gerard's last remaining clothing, exposing him, taking a sharp breath in.

 

"Jesus," He whispered "So fucking hot"

 

Gerard swallowed. "Yeah, well, many nights this has gone lonely, when it coulda had you apparently" He grinned down at Ray, unease now evaporating.

 

Ray's gaze returned to Gerard's erection, proud and very very prominent. He moved his hand to touch it and stopped short. He glanced back up at Gerard.

 

"Show me then" He smirked "show me what you did when you thought you couldn't have me."

 

Gerard was all too familiar with the scenario, late nights after shows, after parties, after rehearsals, fuck during rehearsals. Cock in hand, pumping with practiced rhythm as he imagined Ray in this position, on his knees in front of him. He placed two fingers on the head of his cock, determined to make a show of this if Ray wanted to watch, eyes locked on Ray's face. Pushing down he slid the rest of his hand around to grip the length, remaining fingers joining the first two and starting a slow, languid stroke. He leaned back against the desk, settling into a pace, and watched Ray bite his lip, his eyes darkening.

 

Alarm rose in his chest when Ray stood and moved back, his grip loosening.

 

"Keep going Gee" Ray hummed "I have an idea"

 

When Ray returned, seconds later, he was switching the camera on, fiddling with settings. He glanced up at Gerard, his expression hopeful, asking permission. Gerard swallowed hard, but frankly the thought of keeping a record of this experience was tantalizingly attractive. He nodded once and returned to his former rhythm; stretching his legs out and leaning back a little on the desk.

 

Ray's breath sounded ragged, he kneeled on the floor, avoiding cables, in front of Gerard and took several shots, each one considered and careful. Gerard began to feel a heat building that he wasn't willing to welcome without Ray's involvement, he beckoned to Ray, who, putting the camera aside simply walked on his knees to him, and lowered his mouth to Gerard's deeply throbbing cock.

 

Gerard very nearly lost it immediately; he gripped Ray's shoulders and cried out, feeling only heat and wet on his dick as Ray took his entire length in his mouth and increased the pressure. Matching the pace Gerard had used, Ray brought Gerard to an explosive climax, every fantasy of the past four years flashing before his eyelids as he came.

 

Panting Gerard opened his eyes to see Ray leaning his forehead against his belly, then meeting each other's gaze they smiled. Gerard, pleasure giddy, sank to his knees beside Ray, kissing him deeply and laying him on his back.

 

He took his time exploring Ray's cock, he had pictured it for so long, having seen it plenty of times, but never accessible to him, for his own play. While Ray bucked his hips up against him he ran his tongue up its length, swirled it around the head and licked Ray's thighs. When Ray's moans became louder and more full of need Gerard mirrored Ray's treatment of him, taking as much as he could into his mouth and pumping a staccato with his fist.

 

Ray came shuddering and panting, just as he had, flooding his mouth and gripping his hair. When Ray relaxed they came down together, curled up in a tangle on the floor of the studio, stroking each other's faces and laughing intermittently at the sheer absurdity of their situation.

 

Ray reached up to the desk and grabbed the camera, together they flicked through the pictures Ray had taken, giggling.

 

~*~

 

As the last of their pictures were sending to Gerard's private email for perusal later, following Ray's promise of a returned performance, Gerard felt Ray's hands on his back and a kiss planted on top of his head.

 

"Wait" Ray said as Gerard reached for the camera to unplug it, "There's one I want."

 

Ray flicked back through Frank's Bob-abuse until he found what he was looking for, He handed the camera back to Gerard. "Email that one to me" He said.

 

Gerard felt the heat rise in his cheeks as the photo opened on screen, his gaze on Ray, intense and darkly lustful, Ray's oblivious attention only on his guitar.

 

"Ohhh," he breathed as Ray kissed his face where the pink was blooming. "Oh."


End file.
